We Aren't So Different
by Zenith0011
Summary: Merlin reflects on an encounter with Mordred. Set between seasons four and five.


We Aren't So Different

Category- Merlin

Characters- Merlin and Mordred

Rating- K+

Summary- Merlin reflects on a encounter with Mordred. Set between seasons 4 and 5.

A/N: Wrote this about two years ago, after finding it I decided to post. I posted it as was, with no edits, so sorry for any mistakes.

It's horrible, watching someone I know, someone so good and pure, just sit and wait for death to pounce on them, to steal their lives as easily as a common thief. They know it's coming, but they can do nothing.

I've seen the happiness and purely tear-filled relief that comes with the blessing of your life being restored to you. I've seen it in Gwen. I've seen it in Gaius, in Morgana, even in my king, Arthur. The joy is something indescribable, to realize you've won.

Sometimes, people don't get to experience that pure giddiness. Their's are the saddest tales. I myself have had the displeasure of watching their final moments, their pleads for mercy as their last words.

No one should go through such a horror. Doesn't matter the age, or crime. A sudden death is so much kinder, a death in battle would at least provide honor and mourning. The last things many of the executed victims hear is the taunting and jeers of enemy crowd.

The worst person to have ever been given such a fate was but thirteen- the Druid Mordred. I hated the boy personally. His destiny was to kill my king. But of course no one but I and my guardian knew of this. No, Mordred had been brought before the king because of a much lesser crime- escape from the dungeons during the prior king- Uther-'s rein.

Mordred's blue eyes looked throughout the room with such fear, such innocence I even felt pity for him. He was my opposite, or so was foretold. I was day, and he was night. But why did that fate have to be bestowed upon such a young boy, a destiny far to great for someone his age to handle or even comprehend?

The worst part was when those eyes met mine and locked. He recognized me. He would be forever unable to forget me. I had saved his life the last time, I was the reason he had escaped. The young boy had a persuasive way with words, and anyone with a heart could not ignore the way they penetrated the mind.

Emrys, he called to my mind. I tried desperately to block it out, for I would without a doubt succumb to the words. I don't want to die. Emrys, please!

I broke from his gaze and glanced down. Once this boy had been my greatest enemy. But he was broken. He was helpless as well, his magic blocked from use by handcuffs once fashioned from other warlocks themselves, designed specially for anyone with the ancient tongue.

I think that might've been what made his so anxious and desperate. His magic was part of him, his very being. The panic that would accommodate anything of that sort would be equivalent to having an arm you suddenly tell to move and having it not.

I heard movement as the guards shuffled Mordred from the room like a grown man who had murdered families. He was a boy, did they not understand that? I felt his eyes on me and only me as he exited, until his gaze must've been blocked.

I sensed Gaius coming over to talk to me, as any father would, but I ignored him. I instead walked down after the guards, to the dungeons. I arrived just as they closed the bars in Mordred's face. They moved out of hearing range, but close enough to distinguish anything louder than quiet talking.

The thirteen year old looked up at me, surprised I was there. Curious. Confused. I had to stop judging him on his age- as he was a Druid, he was wiser than men thrice his age.

"Why are you here?" he asked bitterly, angry even. And the strange thing was, I didn't know how to reply. I couldn't think of the answer.

"I- I don't know," I admitted, dropping my gaze. I could almost feel the boy's smirk radiating off of his lips.

"I think I know why. Because it could've been you instead of me." As I glanced up, he looked me straight in the eye without remorse and added, "I wish it was you."

"Perhaps," I said as civilly as possible. He was quickly reminding me of why I disliked him so. "But it isn't me."

"We aren't so different as you might think," Modred continued. Death no longer seemed to faze him on the outside, but I understood the signs well enough- his tone was shaky and he was avoiding the topic. "We are both hunted."

I began to shake my head but he cut me off.

"Whether our identity is known or not, we are. We both have to stay smart. We both have to hide who we are. You came because you see a connection between us."

The bad part was, he was right. I had come because there was a connection between us. But he wasn't just pointing this out, I knew. "What do you want?"

"I don't want to die, Emrys," the boy sighed sitting on the small bed in the corner of the cell. He seemed to let some of his stress, pain, and worry show through. He wanted me to pity him, and he knew me so well it worked. I couldn't just leave a thirteen year old boy to die when I could've done something about it.

"Some people deserve to die," I said, trying to stay cold. He may not have seemed like it, but he was my most powerful, most dangerous enemy. He was stronger than Morgana.

Mordred stayed silent for a moment, staring at his lap. "But not I."

I stared at him for a few moments longer, before I turned and left, leaving him to the guards.

Maybe some people deserved to die. But not him.

At least, not then


End file.
